Near the fire, with a decisive gesture, Thomas ran the entire length of the machete blade along the animal’s jugular. The lamb collapsed on the ground, bleating soundlessly. Its blood soaked into the soil. Amani shot sidelong glances at the dying lamb, realizing he could come to a similar end. Thomas lifted the dead animal by a hind leg, made a cut near the hock, brought the carcass to his lips, and blew as hard as he could. The animal puffed up slowly like a bagpipe—now it would be easier to skin and gut.
“Tomorrow we’ll set out at dawn, and you’ll take us to this white man,” Thomas said to the boy while he butchered the animal.
“How does the mzungu kidnap the zeru zerus?” asked Akili.
“He gets the families to trust him and has them sign many papers and gives them fake money,” replied Amani. “They don’t expect such a thing from a white man. I didn’t believe it until my brother told me.”
45.
“Promise me you’ll leave your cell phone at home, that the only sounds we’ll hear will be from the savannah,” Sarah said.
“A telephone could be useful in an emergency,” Charles replied.
Sarah ignored Charles’s tone and took the device from his hands.
He didn’t resist.
“You’re right.” She laughed as she turned off the phone and placed it in the glove box. “We’ll use it only if we have to.”
“We’ll take the other car, not this one,” Charles said, pointing to the jeep. “We need a vehicle that’s agile.”
Sarah took the phone with her as she clambered into the jeep.
After driving only a few yards Charles stepped on the brakes and jumped out of the car.
“Where are you going?” Sarah called.
“I’ve forgotten something important,” he shouted as he trotted toward the house.
Charles returned a few minutes later with a gun.
“What do you need that for?”
“Nothing, I hope,” Charles said.
“Darling, we’re going to watch gnus and zebras migrate.”
“Where there are herbivores, there are predators. Even a buffalo can be dangerous.”
Charles set the pistol in the glove box with his cell phone.
Five hours later, they reached the plain. With Sarah’s hand in his, Charles let the stress of his body and mind unknot in the limitless space of the Serengeti. He gripped the knob of the gearshift and inhaled. In an instant he felt liberated from the terror of becoming poor, the humiliation of being derided, and the terrible conviction of having to sacrifice an innocent child for his freedom from a disastrous financial situation of his own making. He released Sarah’s hand and gently squeezed her thigh just above her knee. He could feel the soft flesh through her pant leg and caressed it.
Sarah concentrated on some dots in the distance and, as the vehicle neared, they took on the shapes of animals. Her expression was full of wonder at the spectacle around her. Though intellectually she knew that the migration was closely connected with survival, witnessing hundreds of gnus and zebras giving birth simultaneously was a celebration of life. How could she ever have imagined herself in the middle of a river of animals that stretched beyond her field of vision? An infinite procession of four-legged grazing animals emerged from a cloud of red dust, behind which the secrets of life and death were hidden. Charles watched his wife, her rapt gaze, and experienced the wonder through her eyes. Her face sparkled from the awe of wild animal behavior, something he had witnessed numerous times as a child. Once again, he appreciated the sum total of his wife, her heart, her mind, and her body, and was overcome with anxiety by the fear of losing her.
Charles and Sarah followed a herd of animals as the sun shifted to the west, each immersed in their own thoughts. As the light began to fade, Charles realized they had migrated far from the main trail. “The GPS isn’t receiving signals,” he said.
“Oh, really?” Sarah was distracted by the sensation of being in a place with intangible borders, where humans were nothing more than animals like any other, subject to unpredictable laws. She fantasized about her long-standing dream of swimming in the open ocean with Charles, carried by dolphins. Holding on to their fins, they would reach the coast, and then she and her husband would rest on a white sandy beach. She felt closer than ever to the man she loved and safe beside him. She set her hand over her husband’s on the gearshift and laced her fingers with his. They traveled for tens of miles to reach a group of red mud huts with straw roofs. Charles drove no faster than a man could trot among the dwellings.
“Let’s see if we can find an adult who looks trustworthy and who’ll give us directions back to the track we were on,” said Charles.
“Why don’t we walk?” suggested Sarah.
Charles parked the jeep, and she took his hand as they moved among trees and huts. She had a growing sense that they were being followed by curious and suspicious eyes. Sarah tugged on Charles’s hand. “I think I saw Adimu over there.”
Though Sarah’s comment worried Charles, he reluctantly let her lead him, and, as they neared a brick building that was larger than the others, he, too, thought he’d caught a glimpse of the girl together with another girl like her.
The Fieldings advanced cautiously, as if they were trying to get close to a rare, wild animal, torn between a desire to observe it and the trepidation that if they didn’t quickly capture it, it could escape. Unbeknownst to them, they were being kept in sight by two men standing guard not far away. As they rounded the corner of the building, they saw a group of white children of various ages who were playing.
When the children saw the two strangers, they froze. The smallest children ran away. The older ones hesitated, curious.
“Hello. My name’s Sarah, and this is my husband, Charles. Don’t be afraid. We’ve lost our way, and we’re looking for information.” She used her sweetest nonthreatening voice.
“Did you come in that jeep over there?” asked a boy, pointing at their parked vehicle.
“Can you take us for a ride?” an older boy asked.
“Come on, I’ll show it to you,” Charles offered. As Sarah looked about, she did not see any adults. Following her husband, she led another child by the hand.
The two men who’d been watching the Fieldings burst out of the guardhouse and blocked their way.
“Where are you going?” one demanded.
“And you, go back into the dormitories!” the other shouted at the children.
“To my car. We’ve lost our way, and the children were taking us to you, I imagine,” Charles replied mildly.
The guards exchanged looks. “How convenient. You lost your way and ended up at the protected community of Shinyanga,” one said sarcastically.
“Ah, that’s why there are so many albino children!” exclaimed Sarah.
“Are you implying you didn’t know? Why were you heading to your jeep with two of them?” The guard turned to his colleague. “Go check the car.”
The man returned with the gun and GPS device, holding them out to his colleague.
“You’re imposters,” said the older guard. He drew his gun and pointed it at the Fieldings.
Sarah and Charles raised their hands and stepped backward.
“Calm down, we’re good people!” said Charles.
The guards made Charles lean against a tree, and they searched him. He turned his head and saw Sarah, her mouth slack. He struggled to get free, but the guard gripped him tightly.
“Stand still!” he ordered.
“Get your hands off me, you filthy Negro!” he shouted in Swahili.
The guard landed a blow behind his knees, and Charles fell to the ground. They handcuffed him with his hands behind his back.
“I’ll make you pay for this,” shouted Charles. The two men grinned at the sight of a white man on the ground in front of them.
Sarah tried to rush to her husband’s defense. One man twisted her arm and handcuffed her. They dragged Sarah and Charles into the building and locked them in
different rooms.
Through a small window, Sarah could see the children who pushed and nudged each other to catch sight of her. She noticed how raggedy they looked. When she had read about the protected communities, she had thought they were more agreeable places.
Charles was fuming. Treating me like a criminal, how dare they, he thought, pacing to distract himself. Once they find out who they’re dealing with, they’ll throw themselves at my feet for mercy! Revenge was on his mind when the door squeaked open.
“Give me your documents,” demanded a guard.
“I’m Charles Fielding. I don’t need to carry a Tanzanian ID with me,” he replied, glaring down at the man and enunciating his words, although his mouth barely moved. “I am a personal friend of a number of government ministers,” he added.
The guard searched him and found Charles’s good-luck piece in his pants pocket.
“Hey, give that back, you moron!”
In the meantime, the other guard had come into the room. He studied the nugget.
“Now it’s mine! We know you’re a killer,” he added with a smirk, “and you’ll get the punishment you deserve.”
“I own two gold mines, you stupid Negroes, and it will be a pleasure to bury you in them as soon as I get out of here,” he hissed.
The two men chuckled and left the room where Charles was chained.
When the two guards were alone, one said, “If that mzungu had friends in high places, he would be traveling in a luxury car, not an old jeep and without bodyguards.” He was excited to have finally captured the most wanted white man in Tanzania. The white man had been kidnapping children with albinism, pretending he was escorting them to a protected community.
“That’s for sure. A rich man would be surrounded by photographers and officials if he were coming to a protected community for the right reasons.”
Over the phone, the area commander gave clear instructions to his guards: “Keep quiet about the white criminal until I get there tomorrow morning.” Having started to hang up the phone, he lifted the receiver back to his ear and asked, “What did you say his name is?”
“Fielding, sir, and he said he owns two gold mines.” The guard holding the receiver laughed.
“He’s not only a kidnapper and killer, but he’s stupid too. He gave you the name of one of the richest wazungu in the country…I’ll see you tomorrow. Stay alert,” advised the commander.
Sarah was worried about her husband. She knew his temper and the trouble it could get him in. She concentrated on how to resolve the terrible misunderstanding in the quickest time possible. She watched the children in the courtyard, and as they whispered to each other, she thought about Adimu. She sensed they were talking about her, and she felt compassion for them, for where they were and for how they lived. Why wasn’t the place surrounded by a fence? Thank goodness there are guards to protect them. And they had intervened promptly to detain us. All things considered, Sarah believed their behavior was justified. Sarah reminded herself that she and Charles were the intruders, armed intruders, and he called them “Negroes.”
She felt as if her chest was bound. Each breath was a struggle, and her heart seemed to be fighting the tethers, but, despite the fear that imprisoned her body, she tried to keep her mind clear and to think positive. As soon as the guards get word from Mwanza of who we are, everything will be fine. At least for us. As for the children, they’ll probably have to live here—alone—for many more years to come, some of them, perhaps, forever. Her eyes stung from tears as she watched the children watch her. She smiled at a group that was brave enough to come close to the window.
Once Charles’s anger had died down, he looked around the room he was locked in. He noticed the paint on the walls flaking from the humidity, the plaster peeling off the yellowish walls in the feeble light. A big cockroach crawled along a deep crack in the uneven ceiling. He imagined sharing the small space with other prisoners, inhaling the acrid odor of stinking bodies and rotten teeth. “Hey, I need to go to the bathroom!” he called out repeatedly to his jailers. They pretended not to hear him. Unable to hold his bladder any longer, he wet himself. He had never felt so miserable in his entire life, so impotent and frustrated. So humiliated. If that business about the albino hunt came out, the cadaver arm, his shameful secrets, prison would really be his new home, maybe forever. All the gold in the world wouldn’t suffice to get him out of trouble. And he’d never see Sarah again.
Now, in the darkness and locked inside a protected community, breathing in the fetid odor of misery, Charles knew he had no choice but to call off the hunt. It was too risky. Even if “that’s how things are in Africa,” I will have to find another solution to my problems.
At sunrise, the Fieldings were put in a car and taken to the police station in nearby Shinyanga. There, Charles was allowed to make one phone call.
When the regional police chief heard the interior minister ordering him to immediately free the man and woman in custody, he nearly fainted. Mr. Fielding demanded immediate restitution of his good-luck charm. The two guards from the day before were standing before him, curve-shouldered, their gaze fixed on their feet.
“Please, sir, forgive us. We cannot afford to lose our jobs. We have big families, and we were only trying our best to protect those children. There’s a white man out there who’s responsible for the deaths of many children. We’ve been trying to apprehend him for years.” Beads of sweat framed the older guard’s hairline.
“Please, please…” insisted the younger man, clutching Charles’s hand. He dropped down on one knee.
Charles was tempted to get the two of them fired but, as always, Sarah appealed to his more lofty conscience: “Dear, they were only doing their job. Better to go home and forget about it.”
Sarah shivered when the guard mentioned a white man tricking and kidnapping children. She thought of Adimu and prayed she was home in her mud hut, safe.
“Tell Zuberi the hunt is cancelled,” Charles ordered Jackob as soon as he was back in his office. His assistant simply nodded.
That evening after dinner, Jackob left to visit the healer. He would follow his boss’s orders. Halfway there, though, he stopped under an acacia tree to take a moment to think. Jackob knew his employer well, and that meant he knew he would change his mind again. Mr. Fielding was confused and, above all, afraid. It was up to him, Jackob, to guide Mr. Fielding in the right direction when his compass was broken; that’s what a good assistant does. Even if his employer considered himself African, he was still a mzungu. No, he would not say anything to Zuberi. He breathed in deeply and stood up, leaning his hand on the great trunk for support. Jackob could already imagine the benefits that he and his family would obtain from the zeru zeru; above all, he envisioned the favors they would receive from his employer who would be full of gratitude. He returned home, humming to himself. The future had great things in store for him, of that he was certain.
PART FOUR
46.
The car stopped in front of an industrial-green metal gate that was flecked with rust. To Shida and Adimu, who clung to one another, it seemed high and wide, insurmountable. They had held hands for most of the trip on the way to what they believed was a protected community, squeezing the fingers of the other whenever each needed comfort. Now, in front of that high wall of iron, they looked into the other’s eyes for reassurance. Neither of them had expected the community to have such an imposing gate, just like a prison, and the armed guard standing before it, dressed in ill-fitting clothes, had a machete tucked in his belt. The guard’s bulging eyes, red and watery, and his jerky movements set Adimu on edge. Her instincts were on high alert.
The car passed through the gate.
Flocks of children playing on a green lawn; bright flowers; shouting and laughter; new, well-built buildings: there were none of these things. None of what Adimu had imagined when she had thought of the place associated with the telephone number scratched in the mud wall. None of what Nkamba had told her she’d fi
nd. Before her was a dusty space. Its quiet was broken only by the scratching and pecking of ten or so mangy hens. The other children must be in school, she concluded.
Roman and Martha took the girls to a big room that was empty, save for a few crooked beds piled under a window with opaque panes. “Wait here,” Martha told Shida and Adimu. The foam rubber mattresses were filthy, and a couple of them were flattened. The broken window frames and rotted ceiling, from where rainwater had leaked in, confirmed the girls’ initial impression: the place had been abandoned for some time. Shida, discouraged, sat on one of the beds.
“They’re having us wait in this abandoned dormitory until the lessons are finished. Then we’ll join the others,” said Adimu, trying to lift her friend’s spirits. She was really trying to convince and calm herself too. “Let’s go see what it’s like outside,” she added, making a funny face.
“Martha told us to wait here,” whimpered Shida.
“Come on, let’s take a look so we can figure out where we are,” insisted Adimu, pulling her friend’s arm.
Shida resisted, crossing her legs and arms. Adimu smoothed her dress and went out alone. In the courtyard, the sun was ferocious. She peeked around the corner of the building and saw other derelict structures. Scrawny, dried-out plants had grown into gaping cracks in the plaster. Silence. Where are the other children? she asked herself. She moved cautiously to look through one of the windows in the lowest building. The pane was broken. Inside she saw no furniture, only filth. No beds, no desks, no chairs. Nothing that suggested the presence of any children of any age.
She hugged the wall and crept toward a small building that seemed to be in better condition. It was painted the same pale green as the entry gate. Adimu stood on her tiptoes so she could peek in the window. She put on her glasses and saw Martha and Roman talking with the guard. In the middle of the room was a desk and behind it a bookcase that held a set of encyclopedias. The same one the Fieldings gave me! Roman had told me the truth at the lake. What else would those books be for if not for studying? Adimu thought, trying to convince herself of something she severely doubted. Suddenly, Martha turned to the window, and Adimu ducked down and snuck away. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Then She Was Born Page 24